What a Wonderful Web We Weave
by gods sent angel
Summary: AU GW YYH crossover; Noin's apartment complex has a new tenant. Why is senator Yomi so desperate to find him, though? HxK 1x2 3x4 6x9 8x13 6x13 RelenaxDorothy. Obviously yaoi, though most pairings are only mentions or background fodder.
1. When First We Practice to Deceive

Duo stood outside the door to his one room apartment, crowbar in hand, and considered his entryway thoughtfully. He cocked his head first to one side then the other; finally nodding in approval and delicately placed the end of his tool against the wall. Shoving it forcefully up under the rusted metal apartment numbers he wrenched back, causing the nails holding up the abused digit to screech in protest. The next door down fairly flew off of its hinges as it was ripped open, and the glaring face of his Chinese neighbor protruded forth.

"Maxwell," he snarled indignantly, "would you desist with your antics for one hour?"

Duo paused long enough to level the man with a cocky grin before repositioning his weapon of choice under the brass number six.

"'Morning, Wufei," he chirped. With one last grating squeal the six fell to the floor and the braided American moved on to the seven. Wufei gave him a cynical look for a few more seconds before disappearing back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him hard enough to jar the walls. Not that that took much effort. He took a few disgruntled breaths to calm himself and turned towards his rumpled bed with a look of yearning. There was a lull in the noise outside and Wufei slumped over in relief, thinking his next door neighbor had finally stopped. A loud crash outside his door a second later told him he hadn't.

"Damn you, Maxwell," he groaned under his breath, moving towards his bed for what he hoped would be a few more hours sleep.

"CHANG!"

Wufei cringed. Fifteen minutes, that's all he asked. Grudgingly he moved towards his door once again, glancing at the clock in hopes he was wrong about the time. It still read 4:35 in the morning. Stealing himself he opened the door to what he thought was his obnoxious neighbor. Instead he was greeted by the very picture of feminine rage. He checked a moan: Just what he needed right now.

"Good morning, Noin," he greeted stiffly.

"Keep your buddy there in check, Chang," she snarled in a decidedly unpleasant way, "or I'll carve out your balls with a rusty spoon and serve them to you for dinner."

"Always so pleasant, Noin," Wufei replied as she pushed past him and in to his meager studio apartment. He watched her with bleary, sleep-filled eyes as she began nosing through his things with obvious purpose; though _what_ purpose he couldn't fathom. He was still processing this when she rounded on him with a deadly glint in her eyes and started advancing on him.

"Where is it?" she snapped angrily. Wufei raised a slender eyebrow in her direction.

"Where is what?" he asked. Noin seemed to grow fangs as she towered over him.

"Damn it, Chang," she fairly screeched, "you know what I'm talking about! I want –" She was cut off as the door opened behind Wufei, and both of them focused on the new party. Duo merrily stuck his head in the door, braid sliding over his shoulder to dangle heavily like a pendulum. On his face was plastered his constant expression of animated verve, as well as some suspicious white fluid.

"Duo…" Noin growled warningly, her tone menacing and low. Wufei refused to look at the moron in his doorway.

"What?" the chestnut haired boy asked, acting for all the world as if he were some innocent, chirpy kid.

"Maxwell," Wufei admonished levelly, absolutely radiating noble indignation, "at least remove the evidence of your indiscretion in public."

"Huh?" Duo grunted, still oblivious to the creamy substance that was currently oozing off the side of his nose. Wufei, to those who knew him, looked like a man about ready to die of mortification.

"Your face," he explained shortly. Duo raised a hand instinctively and ended up with the white goo squelching under his finger. He pulled the limb away and looked at it for a minute before shaking his head.

"This is just glue," he said, grinning as he wiped it off on Wufei's wall.

"Glue?" the two asked skeptically. Wufei eyed the place it had been wiped off on out of the corner of his eye. He hoped it really was glue, for his wall's sake.

"For what?" Noin asked snippently.

"Oh," Duo answered, "this is for…um…" The American looked about the room for some excuse to change the subject. Wufei got the distinctive feeling that whatever it was, it was _not_ glue. His poor wall. "Anyways," the boy continued, "can I borrow your duct tape?" Wufei considered saying no, but the choice was taken out of his hands when Noin chucked the silvery adhesive at the imbecile's face. He caught it deftly and threw them a disarming smile before prancing back to his apartment.

"Prick," Noin muttered after him. Shaking her head she made her own way to the door, pausing for a second to shoot the Chinese a glance. "See you later, Chang." And then he was alone again.

Relieved to finally have peace and quiet again, Wufei returned to his rumpled bed and snuggled into the soft sheets as he began to drift off to sleep.

_RIPP_

Wufei's red-shot eyes snapped open and his body tensed. He stared blankly for a second, straining to hear the noise again. Nothing. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his pillow as the silence once again settled in. He was almost beyond consciousness when…_RIPP_

This time he sprang from the bed and stormed towards the door, intent on getting to the bottom of this. He tripped over his tangled sheets on his descent from the bed and it only served to fuel his ill temper as he fell unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud. Shoving himself upright again he again made for the door; flinging it open and causing the hinges to break, dropping it to hang at and odd angle by the one remaining axis. The view greeting him did nothing to dispel his foul mood.

Standing on a rickety ladder, Duo was holding a piece of **cardboard** between his legs and another piece to the ceiling above him. In his hand was Wufei's roll of duct tape. He ripped off a piece with his teeth and proceeded to duct tape the board to the ceiling. He stopped when he noticed the other man and gave him an innocent look. It was much akin to a puppy caught chewing his master's shoes; a piece of ripped off duct tape dangling from his mouth and his eyes childishly large.

"What?" he asked naïvely.

"What…are you doing?" Wufei asked testily.

"Fixing the air duct," Duo replied, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world.

"With cardboard?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"It's cheap."

Wufei refused to ponder the logic of this. Very little Duo did held any logic. Instead he asked: "Does it have to be at four in the morning?" Duo grinned charmingly at him and turned back to his task.

"No time like the present," he replied. Wufei stared at him as he continued to tinker away. Finally the man left with a sigh. He maneuvered his door so it would close behind him and slumped against it in exasperation.

"I guess I'll give up on sleep," he snorted bitterly, even though there was no one to tell. He shoved off of the door and headed toward the section of the apartment designated as the 'kitchen' to make some coffee. While he usually refrained from consuming the highly caffeinated beverage, he knew he would sorely need it to get through the day.

An hour and 10 cups later the tinkering stopped outside his door. He heard a mumbled 'good morning' and a door shut farther down the hall a few seconds later. Sighing wearily, though relieved that Duo seemed to be done, he stared down at the dregs of his cup. A bright green silt at the bottom caught his attention and his eyes widened. He leapt from his seat, sending it reeling across the floor, and clutched at his throat desperately as he panicked.

"NO!" He screamed, practically hyperventilating at this point. "It's the dreaded germandala poison! Who would do this to me?" he sputtered and flailed as he fell to the ground in a convulsive fit. "I'm too young to die," he sobbed. "And I haven't had a threesome with a goat yet!" He was too busy dying to notice his door cave in as Noin entered. She crossed the room and picked up his creamer container, completely ignoring his display.

"I knew you had it," she declared. "Everyone steals my green tea." Finally she realized that Wufei was not at her level, but was in fact writhing on the floor. "What the hell are you doing?" she sneered.

"Dying," he replied, picking himself up off the floor and dusting himself. _Green tea_, he told himself,_ not germandala_.

"Whatever, you **paranoid** little dumb fuck," she huffed, shaking her head as she moved toward the door with her tea. She paused when she reached the door and added as an afterthought: "We have a new tenant coming in. Try to behave like a normal human being?" Wufei grunted in the affirmative. It seemed to be enough for her, because she nodded and closed his door as best she could.

Outside the apartment Duo was still working diligently at the ceiling, thought the noisy duct tape had been put aside. He watched as Noin exited the apartment belonging to Wufei and attempted to shut the now broken door. Turning, she looked up at him with thinly veiled contempt which he ignored.

"You got a new roomy coming in," she almost barked at him. "Be civil."

"Always," he beamed. She gave him a nasty look.

"Duo…" she warned. He gave her a dismissive wave and turned back to his task. She seemed to give up, for which he was eternally grateful. Noin was a bitch sometimes and right now seemed to be one of those times. Not his happy place. And not-happy places made for not-deadlines. Very bad. Finally Noin walked away, leaving Duo to himself again. Sighing he slid down from the ladder. He really couldn't do anything more about the noise coming from the vent and he had to stop pussy footing around his troubles. With determination he marched into his apartment; ready to take on his slacker tasks.

The knock at his door was loud and nearly startled him out of his seat. Duo rushed over reasons someone might have to come to his apartment as he moved towards his deadbolts. He wasn't late on anything…yet…so it couldn't be that. Other than the usual pissing off Noin and Wufei he didn't think had stepped on any ones' toes. He hoped it wasn't the cops or something equally nasty as he opened the door. In the hallway he saw only Noin and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then he saw the strange man behind her. Suddenly he wasn't so calm. Strange men didn't just appear at your door with your land lady without a reason, he reasoned, and he knew for a fact he had never seen the man before. He stood with his head tilted down so his messy brown hair covered his face, not that that was difficult. The guy was young - probably around his age - and he looked just a tad bit destitute. Duo guessed he had stumbled on hard times recently. Either that or he was very good at hiding it.

"Duo," Noin with false politeness. Duo looked back to her, knowing she was about to explain; or hoping at the least. "This is Heero Yuy, your new room mate. Heero, this is Duo Maxwell," she continued, turning to the boy behind her with a wan smile. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."

"Wait!" Duo exclaimed, clutching at Noin's sleeve as she turned to leave. "What the heck? Is this some kind of joke? What's going on?" Noin gave him a very promising look that entailed much pain as she pulled her arm free of his grasp.

"I did tell you," she growled coolly. "You dug this grave when you rented the place. Deal with it." They probably would have continued their battle of wills if the new tenant hadn't spoken up then.

"If this is going to be a problem, I can try and find a different place," he offered. His voice was low but soft, and Duo could hear a faint trace of disappointment and worrying tension laced in the undertones. He shrugged and leaned back on his door frame, making it clear with a subtle wave of his hand that the rugged boy was welcome to enter.

"No need," he assured, shooting a withering glance at his land lady as Heero passed him. "Why'd you shack up in a dump like this, anyways?" There was a look of trepidation that crossed his new room mate's face as he replied.

"I couldn't find any other place for the rent," he said, obviously choosing his words with care. Duo was a master at mincing words, when he wanted to be, and the boy's statement piqued his insatiable curiosity.

"Now why's that?" he asked, ever the blunt one. "True, rent control here is unbelievably low, but I don't think that's much reason to shack up here…unless you're hiding something. There _are_ other complexes with rent control." There was a crashing sound next door and almost instantly his door was thrown open to reveal a very livid Chinese.

"Maxwell!" the rumpled boy admonished. "At least pretend to be respectful of other people's privacy!" Duo didn't bother to turn around as he greeted his neighbor, flicking his wrist dismissively while Heero stared inquisitively at the man behind him.

"Why would I do that?" he joked. Seeing the puzzled look on his new room mate's face he sighed and half turned so he could introduce them. "This is my new room mate, Heero Yuy," he told Wufei. He heard a muttered 'so I heard' which he ignored. He knew the walls were thinner than rice paper; Heero didn't. 'Heero, this is my next door neighbor, Wufei Chang. Military child prodigy, retired due to mental instability." Wufei bristled at him and Heero did a good job of hiding his amazement.

"You don't have to broadcast our occupations, Maxwell," Wufei snapped. He seemed to think this was a wonderful opportunity to undo his rival as he said: "Have you told him your occupation yet? It would only be fair." A smirk crossed the Chinese' face as Duo scowled at him.

"I'm a writer," he replied casually. "There are worse things I could be."

"There are worse things you are," Wufei snorted. The argument was obviously beginning to heat up, and Heero felt very awkward standing just inside Duo's apartment. His apartment. He was about to attempt to break things up when he heard a door open farther down the hall. Both Duo and Wufei turned towards the sound and Heero resisted the urge to do so as well.

"Guys," a soft feminine voice lilted down the hallway sleepily, "could you keep it down? It was a long night." Heero broke his resolve and poked his head out to see a drowsy looking blonde doing the same farther down on the other side of the hall. The last traces of tiredness were replaced by interest as she saw Heero. "Ooo!" the blonde lady exclaimed. "Duo, you didn't tell me you got a new one! Hold on, I'll be right over."

The head disappeared before either Duo's or Wufei's objections left their mouths. Heero was about to ask what was wrong with her coming to visit and what she meant by 'got a new one' when the door opened again, revealing the short blonde fully as she walked swiftly down the hallway in a lacy pink chemise. It was thin and lined with soft pink fur, and it only reached about mid thigh; though the whispers of curves and outlines could be seen hinted through the thin gauze-like material. She stopped beside Wufei and eyed Heero over with an appraiser's interest as the others greeted her.

"Hey Quatre," Duo nodded. When he didn't get a reply he turned to Heero. "This is Quatre," he introduced flippantly. "If he starts coming on too strong just ignore him. He's a hooker." Quatre turned his attentions to the braided boy to pout at him, teasingly batting his arm.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he groused playfully. "I like what I do." Heero watched the interplay, still reeling from the discovery that this angelic being before him was actually a man. Not only a man, but a prostitute. When the friendly banter had finished, the blonde god turned to him with an inquisitive and eager smile. "So what are you in for?" he asked happily. Heero fought to keep his expression level.

"Excuse me?" he asked. The way the blonde had said it made the place sound like a prison. Quatre laughed merrily and swatted the air between them like a cat. He really did look like a girl, Heero thought. He kept his eyes from wandering to check if he wasn't one.

"No one's here for the rent control," Quatre chided. "We all have our reasons. Noin doesn't even stay without reasons. So c'mon; what got you stuck in this dump?" The look of discomfort on Heero's face would have been enough to tell then he didn't plan on telling them, even if the fact he was suddenly more than prepared to leave hadn't clued them in. He kept his head down, shadowed by his messy hair, and Duo saw the muscles in his shoulders tense.

"Well?" Quatre pressed. "You don't have to worry about us turning you in if it's bad. We'll hush as long as you leave us be." Wufei looked as angry with Quatre as he had been at Duo earlier. He was about to rebuke him for prying when Heero's voice cut him off.

"I'm gay," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard. There was a second of silence before Quatre giggled and then outright laughed. Wufei looked just as amused, though he didn't seem inclined to put on an act. Duo snorted with laughter right along with them. It was obvious this response confused the new tenant, and Quatre quickly got himself under control enough to explain.

"Heero, there's got to be more to it than that," he patronized. "There are other places that take are tolerant, and some are even rent controlled. You can't be here just because you enjoy being stuffed." The look on his face said he knew more than enough about that, and Heero thought it best not to argue.

"I thought so too," Heero replied with a shrug. He had relaxed considerably now that the news had gone over well. He was silently concerned about how his room mate would take it, but Duo didn't seem to have the first inclination of a problem with it. Maybe he could live with this. He didn't see the cold calculating look come over Quatre's face, or the hard glances shot between Duo and Wufei as his last statement hit home. Finally the silence was broken by Duo standing up and moving inside.

"Hey guys," he said, "it was nice talking to you. I'm gonna help Heero get situated now. See you later tonight." He waved over his shoulder at them as he shut the door, knowing perfectly well they would head to Wufei's place to eavesdrop on them and wholly intending on finding out what they had all silently asked for. Something didn't quite add up with Heero's story and they wanted to find out just what was going on. Quatre knew every apartment complex this side of town and if he said there were gay-friendly ones there were. Not to mention the law said they had to be. He tried to shake the thoughts from his head as he watched Heero take in the apartment. It wasn't much to look at, but it was home and that had always been good enough for him. There was a small bedroom to the right of the main room and the bathroom was in the opposite corner. The kitchenette sat against the right hand wall, directly before the bedroom. Everything was littered with masses of general trash: dirty clothes, paper plates, half eaten meals, and personal affects. Heero looked slightly disturbed by the sight.

As Heero took in the surroundings, Duo took in his new acquaintance. He was lean and tan; probably no older than himself. There was a definite Oriental slant to him features which Duo placed as Japanese. He seemed to scowl a lot, though the braided American was sure that more went on underneath the harsh face he put on. He shifted his glance to the possessions Heero had brought with him – a duffel bag and a battered cardboard box with the words Uhaul inscribed on the weathered sides. The poor boy didn't seem any better for wear than his luggage.

"Hey," he called, drawing Heero's attention to him. The sight of his meager possessions tugged at Duo and he couldn't bring himself to question the new guy before he was at least comfortable. He motioned with his head towards the bathroom for emphasis on his next words. "Why don't you take a shower? You look like death, so why not go relax a bit before unpacking." Heero gave the bathroom a dubious look before nodding slowly.

"I could do with a shower," he agreed.

"Great!" Duo exclaimed, clapping his hands emphatically. "The towels are above the toilet. It's western, but Wufei's got one of the funky ones if you'd prefer." He could hear the strangled rage through the wall and he knew Quatre had silenced the man forcefully. The blonde's voice drifted softly to him through the wall, warningly saying his name. Heero didn't seem to hear. He was giving Duo and odd look; as if he had just said something very unorthodox. "Ah, sorry," Duo apologized hastily. "I thought you looked kind of Oriental, and you have a slight accent, so I figured you were from overseas."

The boy nodded suspiciously before leaving for the bathroom, closing the door behind his self firmly and flipping the lock. Duo didn't have the heart to tell him the latch didn't work on the door, making the lock completely useless. He probably felt weird knowing there was some guy he didn't know standing outside. And he also had a feeling he was confused by their general lack of appall over his revelation. He decided to introduce him to the fellow tenants as soon as possible.

In the bathroom the water could be heard spraying from the faucet. Deciding he had nothing to do for a good 30 minutes he turned to his stereo system. He scanned his **cd**** cases** before coming to a stop on one, a smile lighting his face impishly.

Ten minutes later Heero walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and dripping periodically. He gave Duo a sheepish look to apologize for making an appearance unclad, but realized that the other man wasn't paying attention to him. He finally noticed the music pounding out of the speakers surrounding the living room and wondered how he had missed it before. He smiled when he recognized the song they were blaring. He stooped to pick up the empty case on the coffee table beside him and read the cover. The words 'Old Rock' were scrawled across it in an almost illegible tangle of handwritten lettering. Duo, still oblivious to him, began to sing along with the chorus as he continued his erratic dance.

"SECRET…AAAAGENT MAN! SECRET…AAAAGENT MAN!" he crooned as he frantically played the air guitar and head banged to the tune. Heero chuckled softly to himself at the sight. "HE'S GIVEN YOU A NUMBER, AND TAKEN 'WAY YOUR NAME!" Duo continued with his amusing display and Heero found himself admiring the lithe body performing before its unknown audience. It was a nice body, muscular and toned. Duo had lost his shirt to the pile of unmentionable things at some point while he was in the shower. Judging by the slightly cleaner shirt swinging in his hands he had probably been changing when the song had swept him up.

Heero probably would have observed more, but for the harsh rapping that sounded on the door. Duo stopped his dancing and finally noticed Heero, who tried to look as if he hadn't been staring instead of getting clothes, then turned to the door. Heero had managed to quickly jerk on his pants unnoticed before the door flew open to reveal a tall brunette with the oddest hair-do he had ever seen. It swept over one green eye like the pointy-bang-of-doom. It _was_ the pointy-bang-of-doom.

"You have two minutes before Une makes it up here," he warned with a soft voice. Heero somehow got the feeling the voice didn't suit the man. He continued. "She's wearing her glasses."

Duo gasped out a brief 'shit' and scrambled to turn off his stereo as if his life depended on it. "Thanks, Trowa," he called over his shoulder. The oddly banged man nodded slightly before catching Heero's eye. Heero wanted to shrink away from that gaze, but stood firmly; keeping his indifferent face in tact.

"Hide," the odd man advised. Heero puzzled this as he left the doorway. He heard the door open in the apartment next to them and the sound of Quatre's voice filled the hallway as the two walked farther down the hall together. He thought about that for a moment before another figure appeared in the doorway. She was definitely a woman, though her flinty gaze was enough to make any man wet himself with fear. Her hair was pulled up in two braids, circled into buns and held up with tiny bows. Her lips were pursed together tightly and the light glinted evilly off of the rim of her glasses. He wished he would have followed the man's advice.

"Lady Une," Duo greeted, making his way towards the door while pulling on a fresh pair of pants, his shirt changed already. Heero wondered if he were insane to stand up in front of that look. "What brings you up here?"

"Your stereo," she replied flatly. "Turn it down or I'll remove it from existence." Duo nodded sheepishly.

"Of course," he said. "I didn't realize it was so loud. Sorry, Une." She didn't seem to be convinced but she left all the same when she saw Heero further in the apartment. Interest flared briefly in her iron-clad eyes and he was relieved when she didn't say anything as she left, but he didn't let it show. "Sorry about her," Duo apologized after he shut the door in her wake. "She's really nice when she's not all done up." He gave the wall a thoughtful look as he worried his lower lip between his teeth gently. With a sigh he turned back to Heero, some internal debate having been ended. "I guess I'll have to show you around to everybody a little earlier than I wanted," he said. Heero nodded dumbly, not sure what else to do. Quickly he threw on a shirt from his duffel and moved towards where Duo stood at the door.

"What will the other tenants think about…"

"Your preferences?" Duo cut off, swinging the door open. "How about you meet them and then you decide." Heero nodded warily, not liking the idea but not seeing any alternative. They would find out sooner or later, so he might as well be straightforward about it he supposed. They stepped outside and Duo immediately pointed to the apartment to the left of the door.

"That's Wufei's apartment," he informed him. The brass 68 was dilapidated on the frame but still managed to shine. "It's not likely that I'll be out where you can't find me, but if you need help then he's the next person to go to." Heero nodded mutely and they began walking down the hallway once more, not mentioning any of the other rooms. Heero decided they must be occupied by people of no importance or mirth to mention and let it be.

"This is Quatre and Trowa's place," Duo said finally near the end of the hall. The worn numbers read 94 beside the frame Heero remembered seeing Quatre poke his head out of it that morning. "They'll help you if they're here, but knock first; sex and sleep is about all that goes on in there."

"Trowa sleeps with him?" Heero asked incredulously. Not that the idea of two men rolling about naked and sweating offended him, but…

"Yeah," Duo drawled. "They're lovers. I thought this was your alley, Heero?"

"It's not that," Heero shot back, not liking the other boy's tone. "Does he know Quatre's not faithful? He seemed like the sort of person who wouldn't put up with that."

"Trowa knows," Duo snorted, "he's Quatre's pimp. But he doesn't sell him for more than peep shows and the occasional lap dance, though. He is pretty possessive." Heero nodded. Not really because he agreed, but because he couldn't think of any other response. Duo shook the thoughts free of his head after a second of pondery and continued on.

Duo led Heero past the silent door to the end of the hallway. They quickly made the trek up the creaking steps to the last floor, Heero following behind in hushed complacence. Nearing the top the stairs ceased their groaning and became more solid beneath their feet, as if recently replaced. Voices could be heard sparring in friendly tones on the next floor and as the rows of doors crested the top of the stairs the words became discernable.

"So unlady-like, Noin," a middle aged man at the other end of the hall chuckled. He had short golden brown hair that was greased back sharply and he was leaning on the door frame of what Heero assumed was his apartment. His angled blue eyed were trained on the woman who had shown him to Duo's apartment earlier. She was standing on the opposite side of the hall from him, about half way down the hall. Her hand was resting lightly on the handle of the door as she laughed in response.

"Being lady-like isn't in my job description," she retorted jovially. The other man shook his head wearily, a smile perched on his lips.

"Being lady-like is in _every_ ladies job description," he argued. "Even Une can be lady-like on the other side."

Duo and Heero stepped up onto the landing, drawing the man's attention and Noin's soon after. The braided boy waved to them and walked forward, leading Heero along with him. He nodded to the man at the end of the hall.

"Treize," he greeted. The aristocratic man nodded in return. "This is my new roomy, Heero."

"Une told me you had a new acquaintance," Treize told them. He turned his dark blue eyes to the young Japanese boy and saw the question on his face. "Une is my wife," he explained. "I believe you met her earlier." Heero nodded, not wanting him to call her out for another encounter. Duo clapped him on the back, startling him.

"Don't worry," the American grinned, "she can be really nice when she lets her hair down."

"Unlike you, who are unceasingly tiresome," a second male voice replied from behind them. Both young men turned to see a tall man coming out of the door Noin had been standing in front of. He had waist length white hair and icy blue eyes that were tender but gaurded.

"Aw," Duo pouted playfully, "are you saying you don't like me?"

"Nothing of the sort," he assured. "Were you going to introduce your companion to us or merely flaunt him?" Heero realized uneasily that they were talking about him. He wasn't sure why the knowledge made him feel that way, but he had a hunch his insticts were accurate in choosing.

"This is Heero Yuy," Duo told him, jabbing his thumb in Heero's direction, "and I am not 'flaunting' him. Just thought I'd let him get a feel for the local wildlife."

"Wildlife?" Noin scoffed. "Well isn't that quaint?" The man beside her seemed about to say something, but she cut him off. "Don't bait him, Milliardo," she sighed. "We'll be here all day if you do."

"We have to go, anyways," Duo informed her. Heero didn't think they really had to, but let it drop; imagining it was probably his way of excusing himself from a potentially nasty situation. "See you later," Duo called over his shoulder as he tugged his companion back to the stairs. The tanned youth caught the sight of braided buns out of the corner of his eye and understood their rush. Une had made an appearance at last, it seemed, and neither wanted to be there to witness it. They moved down the stairway at a much easier pace after they were beyond sight.

"They're not actually married," Duo told him abruptly. Heero was confused and Duo saw it. He explained. "Treize and Une; they aren't actually married. She refused to take the plunge unless he dropped his lover and he wouldn't. He's just delusional."

"Lover?" Heero asked curiously. Duo nodded.

"Zechs," he replied. "Milliardo you met, but he has an alternate personality named Zechs." Duo let out a small snort of amusement. "Those four up there are the only soap opera you'll ever need. They keep all of us quite entertained, including themselves I think."

Heero nodded in agreement. Duo continued to fill him in on the little things as they made their way down to the first floor. The first floor was by far the dingiest Heero had seen. The walls looked dry rotted, though upon closer scrutiny it was just the wallpaper molding.

"Only one couple lives down here," Duo told him. "Relena and Dorothy live in 11 down there near the middle. Crazy dykes. Just stay away from them as much as possible. They and Une are S&M addicts. The two of them tend to stick to themselves for their fun, but they'll drag in anyone who happens to walk by. Une's a bit more tasteful about it." Duo gave him a look that he was sure was meant to be reassuring, but it didn't help any. "If you get them separated then Dorothy's a lot of fun to be around," the braided boy defended, "as long as you don't talk politics." Heero nodded dumbly in response; not buying it as much as he would have liked to. He heard someone yelling from one of the rooms.

"Beg for it, bitch!" the voice shouted. Heero jumped and Duo cringed, glancing at room 11. An equally shrill voice began screaming various obscenities and the first voice laughed. Duo turned to him with an uneasy smile. "Sally probably got called in by now," he told him, moving for the stairs once more. Heero was all too happy to follow his lead.

"Who's Sally?" He asked as they neared there floor.

"Sally is the cop who raids this place every once in a while," Duo explained. "Don't tell her shit, or else you're dead." Duo gave him a hard look and Heero nodded in silent pledge. He hoped his face expressed his honest devotion to keeping their secret sufficiently. It seemed to, since Duo shrugged and continued to lead him towards their apartment. Running from authority was something Heero understood all too well, and he wasn't about to cause problems for his new neighbors when they seemed harmless enough. He figured that was the true binding force in this place; illegal activity and running from trouble. It wasn't the rent or the quality; it was the safety from the law. They had reached their landing and were standing a little ways from the stairs. There didn't seem any to be any reason to return to their apartment or to move, so they merely stood; thinking.

"Don't worry, Heero," Quatre yawned behind him. He turned abruptly to face the sleep mussed figure. "The worst thing that goes on here is occult, and that's only Relena." He snorted delicately. "Even Dorothy won't do it with her, the crazy bitch." Heero got the impression no one liked the two, but didn't say anything. Instead he turned his mind to wonder when Quatre had joined them and how he hadn't noticed.

They headed back to their room finally and Quatre separated from them when he saw Trowa standing in the doorway of his apartment. The taller man nodded towards them as he pulled the slight blonde into the dwelling and shut the door. Duo seemed unfazed by the action, leaving Heero to wonder over the possessive act. They continued on towards their own place in silence, remaining unbroken until the door shut behind them.

"Why would Quatre put up with that?" Heero asked softly. Duo gave him an odd look and he clarified. "I mean the possessiveness. Does Trowa always shepherd him around?" Duo shrugged.

"It's not really possessive," he said. "He's just trying to protect him. A while back one of Trowa's rivals decided to try and hold Quatre hostage as a bargaining tool. He's been really defensive about him ever since. Never leaves him alone. But Quatre still gets his space…if he wants it."

"He left him here this morning alone," Heero pointed out. Duo shook his head and threw himself onto the pathetic excuse for a couch. He heard soft footsteps and the light click of Wufei's door opening and closing. He wondered if Heero had heard it as well but he didn't seem to have.

"No," he corrected, "he left him with us. This is a bad part of town. Everyone in this apartment complex looks out for everyone else. We may not like each other, but we're still neighbors." Heero nodded in understanding. It was a pack, albeit a very queer one. Pun intended. He was brought back to reality when Duo clapped his hands and shot up out of his chair energetically. "Time to get you unpacked," he announced. "Do you want to share the bed or sleep on the couch?" Heero balked. Did he imagine it, or did he hear someone else do the same?

"I have a choice?" he quipped weakly.

"Of course," Duo thrummed energetically. Everyone had assembled in Wufei's place by now; it was time for questioning. He could at least make the boy comfortable while he was at it, though, couldn't he? Heero watched him, wondered where he kept all the energy. Maybe it was coffee. "I wouldn't have offered if you didn't," Duo assured him. He gave him a teasing, if suggestive, leer as he added: "It's been a while since I had a bed partner, though.I kinda miss it."

"You're saying sexual favors to share the apartment?" Heero discerned skeptically. Duo laughed. He could almost hear Wufei silently dying on the other side of the wall.

"If that's what you want," he replied, trying not to eye his room mate suggestively. "I was thinking more along the lines of cuddling, but sex is an added bonus." He laughed at the look of shock on Heero's face and moved to grab the man's duffel. Heero hefted his box into his arms and waited for Duo to point him in the proper direction. When the other boy began heading for the bedroom he followed, trying not to trip over anything as he made his way towards the door. The braided boy walked towards the bed and cleared a spot with his foot on which to put the duffel bag; shoving the pile of clothes that had occupied the spot farther under the bed as Heero took in the room more thoroughly.

It was far worse than first glance had suggested, he realized. The walls were yellowed where the paint hadn't yet flaked off – probably lead paint, judging by the age of the building – and a worn piece of cardboard was duct taped to what he assumed was a window at the foot of the bed. The faint smell of mold permeated everything, but was overpowered by the stench of stale sweat. It was disgusting; Heero grimaced as he gingerly put down his load on a relatively clean looking spot. He was suddenly very glad he hadn't taken his shoes off when he caught a better sight of the carpet from his bent position.

"You might want to leave your stuff in bags for a while," Duo suggested. "Wait until I've got the place cleaned up a bit before you move in for good." His tone didn't make the proposal sound very optional, Heero noted. He nodded in relief all the same; he was terrified of what unpacking would render his belongings to.

"Shall we clean, then?" Heero offered. Duo eyed him over for a second before giving him an aloof grin.

"Sure, why not?" he purred calculatingly. His thoughts races quickly over all of his stash points and determined most of them were in the living room, making the bedroom relatively safe. He needed to find out what his new room mate was doing here anyways and the rest of the group would get violently angry if he pussyfooted around the subject much longer. He left the room for a moment to get a trash bag and when he returned he found Heero looking about despondently. Chuckling he tossed the bag at the other boy. "Anything that's not valuable gets chucked," he explained. He turned to start in on one of the larger piles near the door as Heero did the same beside the dilapidated dresser in the corner. Duo wondered how long he'd had it and why he couldn't remember it being there before.

"So where are you from?" Duo asked offhandedly.

"Around," Heero replied curtly. Duo groaned.

"Look, buddy," he said tersely, "I'm trying to be friendly so could you at least act cordial?" Heero stopped moving around and Duo turned to glance at him curiously. The other boy was staring at him as well, a look of shock and shy apology on his face.

"Sorry," the Japanese replied. "I thought you were…" he let his voice trail off for a moment then shook his head. "I'm from Kyoto."

Duo whistled appreciatively. "Wow, what brought you to the slums of this fine outstanding city?" he asked jokingly. Heero didn't seem to think it was funny as his face clouded over once again and he turned abruptly back to his task; shoving unoffending trash into the black bag he held with a violent jab.

"Stupidity," he grunted. Duo backed off the subject. Obviously it was a sore spot and needed to be tread upon lightly. Maybe Quatre should milk him for information. Duo mused. The sweet little blonde was good at that sort of thing, and he always seemed to know where to step in order to keep a person level on rocky grounds.

Apparently the occupants of the next room thought so as well, for a few minutes later he heard low whispers coming through the wall and then a door open and close. Almost instantaneously there was a knock at his door which he stood to answer. Heero followed him to the door tentatively, hiding a little behind the door frame to the bedroom, Duo noted. He kept that in mind as he opened the door to reveal an innocent looking Quatre standing in the hallway.

"I couldn't sleep," he lied sweetly. Duo kept himself from snorting with laughter, knowing it was a lie for Heero's ears, not his.

"Trowa hogging the bed again?" he asked teasingly, playing along. Quatre swatted at him lightly, smiling gently at the mention of his lover.

"I – "

"Senator Yomi," Noin's voice snapped from the stairwell to the right. Quatre's eyes flew open and he slammed into Duo in his haste to enter the apartment before the door slammed shut. Slamming wasn't quite the word for it as the door made no noise other than a soft whoosh of air, but the three occupants couldn't have cared less. Swiftly Duo and Quatre ducked into the bedroom with Heero, leaving the door open and pressing themselves against the wall to peak out of the frame. Noin's voice continued to sift through the door, Heero noted, almost as if the thing had never been shut. "What could possibly bring you to grace us with your presence?" she said. Quatre was worrying his lip with his teeth as he listened. Duo shot him an inquisitive look and the blonde returned it with an equally puzzled one.

"Bum job?" Duo mouthed, Quatre shook his head minutely and mouthed back: "You?" Duo shook his head as well. He turned his attention fully to the doorway again and that's when he saw Heero. He was pale and shaking, obviously terrified of something. Duo poked Quatre and directed his attention towards the tanned boy as well.

"I'm looking for a young man," the senator's voice carried through the door. Heero's eyes widened a little bit more. "Goes by the name Heero Yuy." If it was possible, Heero blanched whiter. "My sources say he rented an apartment from here this morning." Heero was hyperventilating silently as he backed away from the door jam. He tried to hurl himself around, reaching for his duffel on the bed as he did so, but Quatre grabbed him and held him still. He had the look of an animal being pinned in and Duo gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Quatre motioned for him to be quiet and still; returning their attention to the door with a tilt of his head.

"Haven't heard of him," Noin lied. Heero's confusion and shock were palpable. "Got a picture I could look at?"

"I merely need to speak with him for a moment," the senator replied. There was a silence from Noin for a moment before she spoke again.

"Yeah, he came here," she said. Obviously he had had a picture on him. How odd. Heero wasn't breathing, he also noted, but he did seem to manage crying in panic while remaining soundless, not to mention motionless with the help of Quatre's surprisingly strong hold. Noin was still speaking, however, and he turned his attention back swiftly. "Your sources are off, though," she informed the senator. "He paid for the place two weeks ago and hasn't shown up since. Paid cash for three months, didn't give me a name, said he'd be by with his stuff later. I can show you his place, but there's nothing there."

"I would like that," Yomi answered coldly. The sound of stairs and then floorboards creaking let them know as the two continued up the stairs to the next floor and then down to some random room. A door creaked open and there was silence as they assumed the senator surveyed the apartment. Heero was calming down from hysterical panic to mind blowing bewilderment, but he stayed silent as did the rest of them. Finally the door upstairs closed and the two could be heard making their way back down stairs. As they drew nearer there voices could be made into words.

"You will tell me if he comes by," Yomi asked suggestively.

"I don't know," Noin sighed. "My life is busy. I can't be sure I'll remember."

"I'll have the city overlook this place for two more years," the senator bargained. Duo snorted lightly and Quatre rolled his eyes.

"If you don't mind the information being a few days late I can manage to get me boyfriend to do it," Noin offered.

"Dear lady," the masculine voice snapped civilly, "I do not wish to play these games. What is your price?"

"I'd like to know why you're after one of my tenants, albeit an absent one," she replied.

"I can't do that." Noin paused for a minute before answering.

"Ten million for the information when it happens," she finally said. "And no surveillance. I have other tenants who want to stay unknown, if you understand. They wouldn't be too happy if they found they were inadvertently being spied on."

"You are a harsh mistress," Yomi's voice gritted. "Five million, and no surveillance."

"I can do that," Noin chirped. "Have a nice day, Senator." He only grunted in reply. The sound of his footsteps receded along with Noin's and when neither could be heard anymore the three hide-aways' relaxed. Tentatively Quatre and Duo moved towards the door to the hallway, dragging a still frightened Heero with them. Footsteps pounded up the stairway and they halted, waiting to see who it was.

"He's gone," Noin called, passing their door and entering Wufei's place. The three in Duo's apartment did the same. As soon as Wufei's door was shut behind them Heero felt the burning gaze of his fellow tenants boring into him. They were all there, he noted. Everyone, from Relena and Dorothy from downstairs to Une and Treize up above, was crowded into the little studio apartment. Somehow the managed to look comfortable despite the cramped space that left Heero feeling very claustrophobic; though that might have been the group stare he was receiving.

"Now," Noin ordered, drawing his attention to her though no one else seemed to notice her, "would you mind telling us why Senator Yomi was nosing around on this side of town for you? So thoroughly, might I add."

"It's a long story," Heero replied weakly.

"We have time," Wufei informed him. Everyone else seemed to agree and Heero felt helpless against them. Duo and Quatre moved around to stand in front of him, Quatre sitting in Trowa's lap languidly. Somehow that calmed his nerves, knowing that at least one person in the room was at ease. Sighing he decided he might as well begin before someone did something he would regret later. Leaning against the door he began.

Forward


	2. Hell Hath No Fury

_"Now," Noin ordered, drawing his attention to her though no one else seemed to notice her, "would you mind telling us why Senator Yomi was nosing around on this side of town for you? So thoroughly, might I add."_

"It's a long story," Heero replied weakly.

"We have time," Wufei informed him. Everyone else seemed to agree and Heero felt helpless against them. Duo and Quatre moved around to stand in front of him, Quatre sitting in Trowa's lap languidly. Somehow that calmed his nerves, knowing that at least one person in the room was at ease. Sighing he decided he might as well begin before someone did something he would regret later. Leaning against the door he began. 

It was cold out tonight, and Heero wasn't thrilled about the prospects of walking home in this wretched weather. He glared menacingly at the driving snow as it swept past the street light; illuminated like a million white daggers. He couldn't really stay upset with the snow, though. He waited as the lady at the check out counter finished ringing up his items and handed her the money before bundling deeper into his coat and layers and heading out, bag in hand. He made his way quickly down the main roads leading away from the town and the small warmth it maintained even in the heart of winter. As he passed into the less wealthy areas of the outskirts he upped his pace even more. Finally he made his way out of the ghettos and into the small housing development beyond it. He weaved his way between houses until finally stopping in front of a small white cottage near the center of the expansion.

The door opened easily for him and he made his way noiselessly towards the small kitchen to put the groceries away. He didn't think there was much need for stealth since his bed partner was out cold, but there was no need to take risks. Sighing and thinking to himself of how he had happened upon this unusual companion he began to place the items in their new homes.

It had been a bad day at work. That he remembered and could understand. He had gone to a nearby bar to help ease some of the tension from a particularly nasty business meeting with some associate in America who was displeased with the rate of production on his merchandise. Completely normal; Americans were impatient and always rude. But this one had been more than just impolite, he had been downright insulting. Heero was the translator for his company's international affairs, and consequently the only one who spoke fluent English. Heero was sure his superiors had known the man was being vulgar, but they couldn't possibly understand just _how_ vulgar.

He had gone through near an entire bottle of sake, he was sure, trying to drown out the memory of the muscular business man with the foul mouth and orange hair when the figure now occupying his bedroom had entered the bar.

To say that he was eye catching would be an understatement; he was breathtaking. The dim lights still managed to reflect on his erratic hair and the pale hue of his skin wasn't made sallow by the smoke, it glowed in it. It was like he was meant to be ringed in the pluming billows and the fire that created it. He seemed to float across the floor as he came towards Heero's seat.

"Is someone sitting here?" he asked the spellbound Heero, indicating the empty chair beside him.

"No," the translator replied, shaking his head to try and gather himself again. The graceful figure sat down heavily in the chair and demanded a whiskey from the bartender. The drink was handed down almost immediately, and almost immediately, the drink was consumed. "Bad day?" Heero asked conversationally.

"You could say that," the stranger gritted ruefully. "You?" he asked, indicating Heero's personal bottle of rice liquor with his gaze and a slight nod. Heero let out a small grunt of acquiescence.

"You could say that," he intoned.

They drank on in silence for a good while longer. Heero had all but stopped nursing his bottle since the beautiful creature had approached him, but he noted with some unease the amount of liquor the other man was putting away. True, he had not been light with the fluid himself only a little while ago, but this guy was tossing them back like water. He finally decided to intervene when the man reached for his glass and missed, knocking it off the bar and onto the bartender who had just served it to him.

"Maybe we should go," Heero suggested, placing a steadying hand between the man's shoulder blades. He noted with some amazement the amount of muscle there. He had seemed so frail at first glance, but the Japanese decided to look closer now.

"Why should we do that?" the other man protested.

"The bar's closing," Heero lied. He hoped the guy would buy it and leave. "Do you have some place you can go?" He felt the man stiffen underneath of his hand and jerk away. He glared back at the unoffending hand and then at its owner with steely eyes.

"No," he snapped. Heero thought it sounded almost like a snarl. "I haven't."

"You can stay at my place then," Heero replied easily. Only later would he kick himself for inviting a total stranger to his house. He figured it was the booze talking in conjuncture with hormones.

"That would be nice," the other man nodded, though he still seemed wary of him.

The two made their lumbering way out of the bar and down the few blocks to Heero's house. They had barely made it over the threshold when the other man had collapsed in Heero's hold and vomited all over the floor before promptly passing out. Heero had dutifully dragged the dead weight into the bedroom and dumped him on the bed before going to clean his soiled floor.

There was nothing except alcohol and stomach acid, meaning the guy hadn't eaten in a while. Heero resisted the urge to chew his lip as he took mental inventory of his shelves and pantry. _Bare_ shelves and pantry. He groaned as he looked outside; the snow had started up rather heavily out there, but he needed food for his new guest. Putting away his cleaning supplies he had donned his heavy coat and scarves once more and headed out to shop.

And so he found himself on the floor, pushing a box of cream of wheat into the cupboard below the silverware an hour and a half later. He moved to stand up when he heard a phone ringing down the hallway. Odd, he was sure the phone had been left in the living room. He quickly made his way down the hall, following the noise back to his bedroom. He was about to open the door when the phone stopped mid ring and a sleepy voice filtered out to him.

"Hello?" the sleep gritted voice answered. Perfect English. Even his accent was American. How had he not noticed it before? He was drawn back to reality by the harsh tone the voice took on.

"No, I'm not coming back," he snapped. A pause. "I really don't care. He can die for all I concerned." There was a little more of a pause and then a slight growl before he heard the phone snap shut. A cell phone. He winced in sympathy at the keening noises the other fellow made, knowing what kind of a hangover he would have when it actually wore off let alone now that it was only partly through his system.

_"Wait, what does any of this have to do with anything?" Noin pointed out. Heero kept himself from gritting his teeth forcefully. The others had been enthralled with the story so far, so why did she have to butt in now? It would get to the point soon enough._

_"I'm getting to that," he told her, trying not to glare at her too hard. She seemed to notice the other's getting antsy for the rest of the story and conceded._

_"Just hurry it up," she huffed._

"Good morning," Heero greeted as the other man emerged from his room. He had to remind himself to speak in English when he opened his mouth, but it had come out flawlessly all the same.

"'Morning," the beauty replied sleepily. He didn't even seem to notice that he was in a Japanese home speaking English. Heero was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that the guy wasn't native. "I feel like I got run over by an 18 wheeler," came the resounding moan as the man draped himself over the couch like a doll.

"Suprising?" Heero asked sarcastically. "Do you have any idea how much you drank last night?"

"Too much."

Heero smirked and stepped into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a bottle of water and handed it to the prone figure. A pained smile flitted across lethargic features as the other man reached for the bottle.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He sat up slightly to begin drinking but stopped when he saw the bottle. The plastic container slipped deftly through his fingers as the man moved to cover his face with a groan. "Oh no."

Heero wasn't sure what the problem was. Had something come back to him that he wanted to forget? What on earth could it be that water bottle would remind him of? The Japanese youth turned his eyes to the bottle curiously and it struck him. The bottle's label was in Japanese, as it rightfully should be. He was still a little wary about why the reminder of being in Japan would disturb his new found companion. He decided to let breakfast wait; he wanted to know more about whatever he had gotten himself into.

"So where are you really from?" He asked lightly, though his voice held a dangerous undertone.

"America," the other man replied through his hands. Heero nodded. He really didn't need to know more than that; America would do – for now.

"What brings you to Japan?"

"…Business."

Heero bit back on an agitated growl. He was fully aware that the other man knew exactly what the next question was, but he asked it anyways. "What _kind_ of business?" The man scrubbed his face for a second before looking him straight in the eye and Heero felt like shit for what he saw. It was obvious he was trying to be upset at the inquisition, but underneath it Heero could see the dark swells of morbid depression. He felt as though he were looking at a lost soul floundering and begging for help on the river Styx.

"I'd really rather not say," the stranger pleaded and Heero decided to let the poor man be. "Now would it be alright if I asked you a question?" Heero nodded and the man took in an unsteady breath. "We didn't…do anything last night…did we?" he asked. There was something beyond just day-after guilt in his voice and Heero felt his curiosity pique. He shook his head in the negative and watched as the man slumped forwards again, this time in relief.

"Thank Inari," he exhaled, and Heero was taken aback by the very un-American phrase. What did inari have to do with anything?

"Pardon me?" Heero asked, seeking clarification. The man had spoken so fluently before, he found it hard to believe that the fellow could have used the wrong word. But still…The other man looked up at him, confused.

"Inari," he stated again, a hint of worry in his voice, for whatever reason Heero couldn't understand. "isn't that…" He looked away, furrowing his brow. "He…I was told that Inari was a deity."

Heero nodded. He really should have recognized the name; there was a shrine to the god not two miles from his house, for goodness sake. He was suddenly very curious as to why the other man seemed so hurt by the thought that he didn't know the word. Careful to choose his words in a way that would, hopefully, illicit answers he replied.

"The god of rice and rice whine, yes," he agreed. "Sorry, I'm not terribly religious. Not in Shinto, anyways. You were informed correctly."

A look, almost like relief, passed over the other man's face briefly, but Heero noted it all the same. He shook his head and turned back towards the kitchen, stopping to address his guest once more.

"We can continue talking in the kitchen," he said, all but ordering the other boy into submission. "I'm famished and if we are to eat before I go to work then I have to cook now." With those words he headed into the kitchen. He heard the other man move to follow him a few minutes later, just as he was getting out the frying pan for the eggs.

"Can I help?"

Heero turned to see the other man in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He made a declining noise and motioned with his head for the boy to have a seat at the table. The other man quickly did so, sitting backwards in the chair closest to Heero and watching him intently. Trying to strike up the conversation once again Heero spoke.

"So where did you learn Japanese?" he asked. "Your speech is far too impeccable to be book-taught."

The other boy nodded sheepishly and a small blush crept across his face, though it was hardly perceivable. "My friend taught me," he answered. "He was from Japan." Heero noticed the other's sudden distant expression and let the subject drop like he had so many time that morning already. The silence that ensued lingered on until the food was cooked and even through most of the meal. He was beginning to feel antsy when the other man spoke again.

"Thank you for the meal," he said finally, catching Heero off guard a little, "and for letting me stay the night. I would hate for them to have found me a drunken mess like I must have been last night. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"Well," Heero replied, "if you would like, you could do the dishes. I have to leave for work in a few minutes. If you leave just lock the door behind you. That's all I ask. You're welcome to stay a while longer if you need." As soon as he said it he regretted it. He had _not_ just invited a stranger to live with him, had he? He berated himself for being a fool even as his companion spoke.

"Could I really?" he beamed, his eyes shining hopefully. "I would be ever so grateful." Heero felt his apprehensions start to fade under that smile and he nodded. He glanced down at his watch to avoid eye contact and bolted out of his chair, cursing. It was already half past eight and he had to be to work at a quarter to nine if he wanted to finish everything before the meeting at ten.

Heero wept internally when he opened the door to the conference room and saw the orange haired man at the head of the table. He had completely forgotten that he had to translate for this…man again. However, he maintained his straight face as he sat to the left of him to take translation notes.

Slowly people started filtering into the room and soon the place was half full. When the company president finally arrived Heero stood, signaling the beginning of the meeting. Bowing slightly to their American speaker, then turning towards the room of business people before him, he spoke.

"Minnasan," he addressed them politely, "kore wa Kuwabara Kazuma san desu. CEO no Reiki Pharmaceuticals desu."

(Ladies and gentleman, this is Mr. Kazuma Kuwabara. CEO for Reiki Pharmaceuticals.)

Bowing towards his small audience he sat down and turned to face their foreign speaker once more. The man seemed even less pleasant on second meeting, if it were possible. With a disinterested grunt the man turned back to his briefcase and began pulling out data compilations for his presentation. A few minutes went by in near utter silence as they waited for Mr. Kuwabara to organize himself to speak; a task that he should have already taken care of in Heero's opinion, though he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Alright," the burly American said, clapping his hands together as he turned to finally face his waiting audience. "As most of you know after yesterday's get together, Reiki is trying to expand to more accommodating areas. Although Japan is advanced, it definitely has more leeway for old herbal remedies than America, and so…"

Heero translated the man's words, changing what he could to be more professional and less slighting. He was having little luck, though. Kazuma seemed intent on making his entire company look bad, for reasons Heero couldn't fathom. Thankfully, fate decided to take a hand in his predicament. The meeting was less than five minutes underway when a cell phone sounded shrilly in the room, bringing dead silence. The second ring had Kazuma Kuwabara scrambling for his briefcase again. Heero felt like sneering at the man for being so rude, but his disdain quickly turned to piqued interest as he caught part of the conversation.

"Kuwabara here," the man said as soon as he snapped open the phone. Heero couldn't hear what the person on the other end said, but Kuwabara's entire demeanor changed within seconds at whatever it was.

"He's what?" he roared, waiting for a reply before continuing. "What do you mean 'he disappeared'? Don't blame me for it, it's not my problem." He listened for a few more seconds before growling in agitation. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll look. The Senator will kill you when he finds out."

He barely spared Heero a glance as he began packing up his bag again. "This meeting's over," he told him. He gave no explanation, no apology, jhe just packed and left, leaving Heero to come up with a reason. Biting down a scowl, he did so. At least the meeting was over.

Heero had wondered if he would find his impromptu housemate still there when he returned home and had come to the conclusion that he wanted the other fellow to be there. As he opened his door he looked around, putting his bag on the floor next to his shoes, which he quickly toed out of before entering the living room, it looked as if his new roomy had left. With a little sigh of disappointment he entered the kitchen to find something to eat. He really shouldn't be so saddened, he told himself. After all, the man probably had a life that he needed to get back to as well.

He was just pouring himself a glass or orange juice when he heard the bathroom door open and a second later a wet young man came into the dining area, still toweling down his hair and dressed in his clothes from the day before.

"Sorry for not asking before using your bath," he apologized. "I couldn't handle being filthy any longer."

"It's alright," Heero told him, shrugging his shoulder as he took a drink from his glass before putting away the carton. "Here, I'll make us some dinner while you fill me in on how you came to be in my house to begin with."

"I would think that would be obvious," the other man told him. "You brought me here."

"I meant everything that added up to you being in the bar," he explained, taking a box of rice out of the cupboard and reaching for a pot to cook it in. He didn't have the luxury of a rice cooker, but he'd never really seen the need for one.

"I'd rather not," his house guest said, watching him move about the kitchen. His friendly demeanor was gone, replaced by a cool indifference that rubbed Heero the wrong way.

"Fine," he replied evenly. "The police will love you for being here without a passport."

"I'm not."

"You will be if you don't tell me who the hell you are."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, turning and exiting the kitchen. Heero put down the pot, following him out. He was determined to get the answers he wanted from the man, if it killed the other getting them.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" he asked skeptically, watching the other fellow as he moved to grab his cell phone from the small coffee table beside the couch. He stopped and half turned to see Heero standing there.

"Leaving," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Not until you tell me your name, at least."

"No."

Heero felt the keen desire to mutilate this bastard. Visions of his graphic demise were beginning to play through his head. "Get out," he growled.

"You just said I couldn't."

"Not the _house_, the _room_."

"Wonderful distinction."

Heero opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by his house mate's cell phone. Both of them stared at the beeping contraption where it lay on the coffee table for a second before the other man snapped to and reached for it. Heero didn't even see him open it before it was pressed to his ear and silent.

"Hello?" he greeted curtly. Heero got the impression that he was in no way pleased to be interrupted. He wondered idly if this odd stranger found some sadistic pleasure in arguing with him that would make him rue a phone call. He jumped as the other man replied to something the person on the other end had said.

"I _told_ you, I don't _care_!" he yelled into the receiver. "No! I'm not…fine. I'm surprised you haven't told him yet as it is!"

The phone was abruptly snapped shut with altogether more muscle than was necessary and thrown forcibly aside. Luckily it landed on the couch or it would have been in a broken heap by the wall. Heero watched it as it descended and lodged itself between the cushions.

"I'm sorry," the stranger apologized, snapping him out of his reverie and bringing his attention back to the original subject. "You're right, I have no right to expect you to be so hospitable to a complete stranger. I'm very thankful for you allowing me to stay here so long, but I feel awkward enough as it is. I should leave."

Heero reached out, grabbing his sleeve as he turned to exit the room and collect his things. The other man stopped and looked back at him questioningly. Heero was just about as sure of his intentions as this stranger was and was just as surprised by what he said next.

"Don't go," he said, the words not really registering as they came from a place he had, until just then, been unaware even existed. "I don't mind if you stay, just tell me who you are."

The other fellow stared at him, bewildered, and he tried not to mirror the expression. He released his hold on the other's sleeve, but he made no move to leave again. After some time he smiled, turning once again towards Heero and relaxing a bit.

"I'm just a foreigner," he replied casually.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know," Heero scoffed. The other man sighed in defeat.

"My name is Kurama," he said at last. "I'm from America. Where's really not important, it's just like every other big city in the world: crowded and uncaring. I came to Japan with one of my father's business associates because I wanted to get away, but I told him I just wanted to travel. When you met me at the bar I had just had a spat with the man and was planning on disappearing anyways; you just happened to be in a very convenient position for me."

"You were drunk off your ass," Heero reminded him flatly. He smiled.

"That, too."

Heero nodded in acquiescence and silence filled the room as he thought about what he had just been told. Not that he had much to think about, it sounded like a rather straightforward affair to him. "The phone calls have been from the man you came over with," he said more than asked. Kurama nodded.

"He hasn't told my father I'm missing yet. Rather surprising since he can't seem to think without father telling him how to. He's threatened to tell him, but I could care less."

"I take it you don't like your father much."

Kurama snorted. "That would be an understatement. The man could care less about me, so long as I don't ruin his image."

Heero grunted in condolence. He'd known people like that. Worked for them. Bastards, the lot. He shook himself mentally before turning towards the kitchen, glancing back towards Kurama as he passed the threshold. "Well, since you're staying, I'll finish making that dinner, alright?"

Kurama smiled in reply.

_"Why do I know that name?" Duo asked. Noin glared at him._

_"Don't interrupt, damnit," she spat._

_"I waited until I lull," he retorted, sticking out his tongue._

_"Just shut up and you'll find out who it is, anyways," Relena snapped, reverting her attention to Heero once again. "Just keep going," she urged him with a smile that would be charming if he were unaware of her sadistic nature. He just nodded instead._

"I'm glad you're letting me stay," Kurama said for the third time as they finished their meal. Heero shook his head for the third time.

"Don't mention it," he assured. "It's not a problem. I wouldn't have cared, except I didn't really want to be harboring a criminal or anything."

"What?" Kurama teased, picking up the dishes and heading towards the sink. "Not afraid for your own safety?"

Heero gave him a very meaningful look. "I could easily have killed you if needed." Kurama just shrugged and started toward the sink again.

"If you say so," he replied offhandedly. Heero was about to open his mouth again when Kurama's cell phone interrupted him. Again. Kurama's head snapped in the direction of the noise, then he scowled. Dropping the dishes into the sink, he stalked over to the source of the could, fishing it out from between the cushions of the couch while he groused.

"Damnit, Kuwabara," he growled to himself, startling Heero, who immediately recognized the name, "give it a rest already. You can't bully me into coming back."

He straightened up again, phone in hand, and flicked it open with a irritated air of determination. "_What_?" he snapped. His face instantly changed from annoyed to shocked as the person on the other end said something. "Hiei."

Heero moved to stand in the doorway and watched him curiously. He wondered Hiei was as he listened to one side of the conversation.

"I know, I'm surprised it took him so long, the idiot…Well I figured he would be…Hiei, I'm not going back there…He _what_?...How could he…Oh no…No, I've got to…_NO_! Hiei, don't!...Hiei, he'd kill you…No, I'll fix it, just stay out of it…Please, Hiei, this is why I left in the first place…No, not _you_, _this_…Yes…I promise."

Heero was more than a bit perturbed by the paleness of Kurama's face as he snapped the cell phone shut. Somehow he felt it would be wrong to ask, but he found he was truly worried about what little he'd been able to ascertain. Mainly that someone would kill whoever this Hiei person was and the prospect of that had shaken Kurama. Or something. He was brought from his thoughts when Kurama turned to him, a smile intended to be friendly but barely disguising the panic and desperate hope that he would agree that was behind it.

"I want you to go to America with me," he told the young Japanese. Heero blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"America," Kurama said again, as if that explained everything. When it obviously failed, he continued. "You know, the land of the free, home of the brave and all that pap?"

"Yes, I know what it is, and where. I mean _why_? And why so suddenly?"

"Because I like you," he smiled. "And I need to go home. Won't you please come?"

Heero eyed him warily. "I thought you weren't going home?"

"Something's come up." Kurama looked ready to panic. Or drug him and throw him on a plane. He didn't know which he disliked more. He eyed the other over for a minute before nodding. Why the hell not, after all? Kurama let out a sigh of relief that was altogether disproportional to the amount of air he should have had in his body. Lunging forward he grabbed Heero's hand and began to drag him towards the bedroom. "There's nothing of eminent value here that you can't bring with you, is there?" he asked.

"No," Heero replied. There was nothing of _any_ value in his house, let alone that could or could not be uprooted on a seconds notice, which is all he seemed to have. "I don't have a passport."

"Doesn't matter," Kurama told him, entering the bedroom and picking up something that Heero couldn't see.

"Don't you need one to travel internationally?"

"Not the way we're going. Grab anything you need or want."

Heero left it at that, deciding it wise not to ask. Kurama was already moving towards the front door as Heero took one last dispassionate look at his room, and in effect his house. There was nothing he'd really miss, but he should probably take some clothes or whatnot. Glancing at his jumpy acquaintance, he decided he could spare the time to pack. Maybe it would calm his nerves to wait a bit.

Grabbing his one piece of luggage from the closet, he began loading the duffel bag with clothes and other things that would be a little pricy to replace. Along that line of thought, he also grabbed what money he had on hand, which turned out to be a little under twenty thousand yen. Finally deciding that he couldn't stall any longer without getting ridiculous, he stepped out into the living room with his duffel in tow and headed towards the door where Kurama stood, trying not to look panicked. He was succeeding admirably. He turned to look at Heero when he entered the room and quickly grabbed his coat, throwing Heero's at him. The Japanese caught it deftly and stopped long enough to put it on, picking up his bag again and exiting the house with his American friend.

"So," he said, turning to his distraught partner, "where to now?"

Kurama looked about uncertainly for a bit, then turned to Heero. "Do you know how to get to the graveyards?" he asked.

"Which ones?"

"Next to Saint Marina Church," he recited, his eyes vacant as he recalled the name. Heero thought for a second and nodded.

"Well have to take the bus to get there, though."

Heero stepped into the decrepit cemetery through a creaking metal fence. It was the sort of place _made_ for horror movies. If he were the type to be easily spooked, he would have shivered as he entered, but he wasn't. Kurama seemed to be even less effected by the place. He brushed past Heero and headed straight for a large monument in the center of the necropolis. A shadow stepped out to meet him, but he wasn't perturbed by it. Instead he seemed grateful to see it. Heero watched from a small distance as Kurama conversed with the man the shadow properly was. It took only a few minutes for Heero and Kurama to get fake passports and two one way plane tickets. Heero chose not to question the convenience of all this.

Kurama didn't seem to care.

Not half an hour later they were standing in the airport, ready to board a plane that would not arrive for another hour. Kurama was fretting, though the average person would never have known it. Heero quirked an eyebrow as his friend flicked his eyes over his cell phone once more.

"Maybe I should chuck it," he said. Heero shrugged.

"Why bother?"

"They might be able to track it."

"Not if you're not using it."

"They can call it."

"Then chuck it if you think you have to."

"But Hiei might call."

"Who _is_ Hiei?"

At this Kurama stopped. Heero doubted it was for the lack of knowing. He was still debating over what or how much to tell Heero when the cell phone went off. Heero watched as he, for once, checked the caller's number. He seemed relieved as he answered, though it was short lived. Even Heero could hear the voice on the other end.

"_What do you think you're doing_?"

The voice was much lower that Kurama's or Kuwabara's. It reminded Heero a lot of his own, actually. Kurama flinched a little in surprise before answering.

"I'm coming home, Hiei," he replied coolly. "I should have thought that was obvious."

"By _plane_?" Hiei shouted. "Kurama…."

Heero couldn't hear the rest of it, but he saw Kurama's face fall a little. Before he made a soft "oh". There was more silence as Hiei continued to talk, and Kurama looked about ready to start panicking again. "He won't hurt me," he said finally. "I'll be _fine_, Hiei. And as for him, I'll just have to help him hide until it all dies down…Yes, I know what I'm saying…Hiei, I have to go. Don't call again, I'm discarding the phone. Don't worry, I'll be fine." He sighed as he ended the call, chucking the phone in the nearest trash bin before turning to Heero again.

"C'mon," he said, "let's get down to the gate and wait for the plane."

Kurama spat out a curse as they deboarded the plane and pulled Heero off to the side.

"They're here already," he explained tersely. "You need to get out of here without being seen. Just stay in large crowds and forget about you luggage, I'll get it to you somehow." Heero looked at him skeptically for a second, but shrugged. It wasn't that important, anyways.

"See you around, then," he replied, recognizing a farewell for what it was. He glanced about and quickly attached himself to a crowd, following Kurama's advice. After all, when in Rome…

_Duo shot up from his spot, startling everyone. "I got it!" he crowed. "I know why that name sounds so familiar! It's Yomi's son!"_

_"Fuck it, Duo, couldn't you have waited _two minutes_?" Noin screamed at him. "Heero probably would have told us that himself in a second. Now let him finish his story."_

_"Well," Heero hemmed, "that's about it, actually. I got out and rented a cheap motel room. That night my stuff arrived, along with a cardboard box full of money and other things that I hadn't brought along. But the next day the motel owner threw me out. I haven't been able to find an apartment or anything since. Kurama left me a note with all of my things warning me all this might happen, but it was still a little overwhelming."_

_"How long ago did all of this happen?" Wufei asked._

_"Two, two and a half weeks ago."_

_"Something that's bothering me," Treize began, tapping one tailored finger against his lips._

_"Isn't Hiei the name of Senator Mukuro's son?" Miliardo asked._

_"Yeah, but why would the two of them be conversing?" Dorothy added._

_"And so intimately," Quatre agreed. Everyone looked at him, and he shrugged. "The way Heero described them talking would infer close friends at the least. I've heard rumors, but this goes beyond those even."_ _"Wait," Duo exclaimed, hushing everyone with an outstretched hand. "Are you telling me, that you actually came to Noin's without any criminal history?"_

_Heero nodded._

_"Wow," Duo whistled appreciatively. "That's gotta be a first for Noin's."_

_Noin promptly decked him._

****

****

Semi cliffie o' DOOM! Seriously, I am _so_ sorry this took so long. ;; There was no reason beyond writer's block. Yeah. All of the "" things are really extreme bouts of writer's block that I could get away with not filling in. Others were far too vital to snuff. It's been stuck at Kuwabara's appearance for the last six months. It was bad. I wrote just about everything after it in one night, which is very good, but there were two spots I couldn't handle in that, too, so more delay. And can you believe it, the story hasn't even hit it's climax yet. I'll tell you this, it's got some major 3x4 related things. . Because they just don't get enough love. And they still won't! This is all for you, Dire!

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	3. And Heaven No Virtue Like a Man Forewarn

I know I _said_ chapter three would have some 3x4 action, but, I lied.

Yusuke groaned appreciatively as he popped his neck. His charge spared a second to flick a scathing glare at him before turning back to the window, where he was dutifully fuming while distinctly ignoring everyone. The bodyguard sighed. Normally the Senator's son was at least civil, but this was getting ridiculous. For two weeks he had done nothing but cause headaches for the staff. He had stopped counting how many times he'd tried dragging the little twerp from his funk, but with a longsuffering sigh he tried again.

"Hiei, this is ridiculous," he said, trying to reason with him. "You're only worrying your mother, and…"

"Mother never worries about anyone except for herself," the slight boy retorted. "Don't try to lie to me, Urameshi. It won't work."

Yusuke glared at him for a moment before conceding with a huff. "Alright, so you're _not_ worrying Senator Mukuro, but you _are_ getting to Yukina."

"My sister can complain to me herself if she wants to," Hiei snapped, sparing him another withering look before dismissing him from his attentions again. Yusuke growled in frustration, but he hadn't really expected anything else. Hiei was a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, and right now he seemed to have no other desire than to make everyone's life miserable. Silencing his internal grumbling, he moved towards the door.

"Please stay here while I attend to other business," he told Hiei, not waiting for an answer before shutting the door behind himself.

Yukina idly plucked at the cuffs of her long sleeved blouse. Their bodyguard, Yusuke, had said he would try to talk sense into Hiei, but she knew it was a futile attempt. She wished that she could say otherwise, but even she probably would not be able to drag him from his melancholy right now. He was angry, and she was sure she knew full well why, though she doubted any others did. She heard the door to the study shut firmly and she turned to see Yusuke, silently storming as he tried to maintain a professional air. Silently she stood and made her way to his side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to help him ground himself.

"I told you it wouldn't work," she said softly. He let out an angry breath, but only nodded in reply. Smiling warmly she patted his shoulder. "Let me talk to him." He made to open the door for her, but she stilled his hand. "Alone." She needed to talk to Hiei and she had a feeling that Yusuke and the other's lack of knowledge on certain points was intentional on his part, and she was not going to be the one who let slip his secrets. Yusuke looked about ready to argue the point with her, but she shook her head firmly.

"Miss Yukina," he began to protest, but she held up her hand, sidestepping around him so he was unable to come between her and the door.

"You're being silly, Yusuke," she chided. "I'm his sister. The worst he would do is yell at me, and I'm a big enough girl to parry words. Now if you'll excuse me."

Quickly and quietly she opened the door and slipped in, shutting it soundlessly behind her before he could further protest. Steeling herself quickly, she turned to her brother, who had yet to look in her direction. Silently she approached him, determining how she would breach the subject she assumed he thought she was unaware of without angering him further.

"What do you want, Yukina?" he asked, never turning around or in any other way acknowledging her presence. She stopped less than a foot away from him, peering over his should a little to see what he was staring at. As she expected, it was nothing.

"I want you to stop acting like a spoilt child," she replied in a motherly voice. At this he did turn to her.

"Oh?" he said testily. "And since when have you become mother? Be careful, Yukina, or I just might start hating you, too."

"Hiei, stop it." She reprimanded. "Whatever the matter is, you're being childish about it."

"And I suppose you would know all about that?"

Yukina bit back on a retort, knowing it was what Hiei wanted. She sighed, diffusing what little anger had built up already and gave him a concerned look. "What's wrong, Hiei?" she asked gently. He turned back to look out the window angrily.

"Who said anything was wrong? Isn't it normal to brood when you're nothing more than a public image?"

"There haven't even been any press conferences lately, Hiei. What's really bothering you?"

When Hiei refused to answer her, Yukina decided to play her hand. She prayed that she was right in her suspicions: she didn't need Hiei any angrier than he already was by accusing him with false truths. In one step she was right beside him. Gently she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her cheek to his broad shoulders in an attempt to pacify him through her next statement.

"He hasn't called you, has he?"

Hiei tensed under her before she was abruptly pushed away. She looked into his storming eyes from arms length where he held her.

"What?" he asked coolly. She knew better than to believe the false air of control, though.

"You're distraught," she explained softly. "You haven't told Yusuke about whoever it is, so it's obviously not a woman, and you haven't told me, so it's also someone you think would cause objections. Am I right?" There was a flicker of panic in the depths of his dark eyes and she quickly moved to sooth it, stepping between his restraining hands to run calming fingers through his unruly bangs. "Hiei, I'm not mad at you," she reassured. "If he – for I assume it _is_ a man – if he makes you happy, then I don't mind. Alright?"

Hiei stared back at her, his face slowly losing its hardness as her fingers moved feather-light through along his scalp. With a defeated sigh he closed his eyes and nodded. "You always were too good at coaxing things from me," he accused.

"Don't make it sound so horrible," she chuckled. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, who is it and how long have you two been together?"

Hiei looked at her through his bangs, almost pathetically. "You're not going to like it," he warned her.

"Try me."

He studied her for a few seconds before relenting with a sigh. "It's Kurama."

He was right. She didn't like it.

"Kuwabara, this is _entirely_ unnecessary."

The orange hairs bodyguard went unfazed by the admonishment from his charge, shrugging it aside as he leaned against the wall of Kurama's bathroom. "Your father told me to watch you, so I'm watching you," he replied matter-of-factly.

"There aren't even any _windows_ in here," the redhead objected from the shower where he bathed. Truthfully he had been done for at least five minutes, but he refused to step outside of the protective curtain with the burly guard in the room. "Can't you wait outside so I can at least dress?"

"Are you done?"

"No, but that's beside the point."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Kurama mouthed a curse Hiei had taught him months ago and he had recently taken quite a liking to. It had been like this ever since he got back. He had been banned from venturing outside, which was killing him, and he was unable to go anywhere without his bodyguard hawking over him. He was also not permitted to call anyone.

"Kazuma," he begged, trying to wheedle an agreement through familiarity, "Please. I'm not turning the water off until you leave."

There was a huff and then: "Fine. But you have _five_ minutes before I come in here and drag you out, regardless of what state your in."

Kurama grinned to himself as he turned off the water and threw open the curtain to grab a towel. While he had no real dislike for Kuwabara, he needed his privacy. Not that he was going to get any between now and elections, he was sure, but he needed it, all the same. He should have put more thought into _when_ he was running away. He would never have gotten in this much of a mess if he had waited until after the election campaigns. But he had ignored the facts and gone off as he chose. Now he was a prisoner in his own house, released only to appear at his father's side and give the bastard a good rep.

Quickly he slipped into the clothes he had brought in with him. He had been afraid Kuwabara would refuse to let him dress and had planned on clothing himself in the shower, so he had grabbed shorts and a tank top instead of his more preferred jeans which would have gotten soaked at the cuffs. And it was far too hot to wear normal shirts today, anyways.

A minute and a half shy of being barged in on, Kurama exited the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around his still damp hair. Kuwabara tried his best to hide the incredulous look he gave the turban-like affair, but Kurama caught it all the same, dismissing it like he dismissed so much that had been happening lately. It was getting harder, though. He moved purposefully towards his bed, unraveling his hair to give it a good rub down again and prepared himself to say what he had been thinking. The idea had come to him some time ago, but until this recent stint with the bathroom he had been tolerant of the whole situation. Kuwabara had been trailing him for two weeks like a badly trained spy, but he had never deemed to enter the bathroom with him. Kurama feared the next step would be surveillance of his other visits to the water closet as well. He shuddered as the though passed his mind and once again became resolute in his decision.

"Kuwabara," he began, trying to sound off-handed about the whole affair, but he could feel the bite of steel beneath his words. He could tell by Kuwabara's reaction that he heard it as well. "I was just thinking. This is really becoming preposterous. I know my father wants me under lock and key until the elections are over, but that's still six months. Are you planning on following me to the bathroom the entire time?"

"If I have to," he replied boorishly. Kurama noted with some satisfaction that he sounded even less thrilled about it than Kurama did. Kuwabara could be a supreme ass hole at times, but he had a good heart and a clear head. His father was just an idiot.

"Me and you both know that's beyond unreasonable," Kurama told him flatly. "Besides, how do you plan on playing big brother for me _and_ attending to my father? Think, Kuwabara, you're only one person. You can't possibly be in two places at the same time. What my father is asking you to do is absurd."

"I'm still going to try," Kuwabara defended.

"I know you will," the red head assured, putting down his towel and smiling supportively at his guardian. "And you do a wonderful job, but there's only so much you can do alone."

Kuwabara eyed him suspiciously, seeing the set up but not the offer. "What are you suggesting?"

"Let Shiori take over for me. She knows me better than anyone, which means she knows better than anyone how to control me. She can be hear all the time, too. She doesn't attend to my father like you do."

All this was true, they both knew it. Of course, Kurama inwardly smirked, his old nurse maid also thought his father was an idiot and would be more than willing to bend a few of Kurama's house arrest rules. He just hoped Kuwabara had managed to forget those points since she had been reemployed as a custodian some years ago. Kuwabara's knowing grin told him otherwise.

"Yeah, and let you get away with God knows what?" he chided. Kurama tried to look impish in return, but inwardly his heart sank. So Kuwabara did remember. "I'll have her sent up by tomorrow."

Kurama stared at him shocked and then chuckled. "You know me too well," he murmured in triumphant defeat.

"What, you thought I _agreed_ with you old man?" Kuwabara admonished jokingly. "Come on, brat, Yomi's been losing it for years now. He honestly thinks you're gonna try assassinating him."

"He's not worth the bullet," Kurama sighed. "Why do you stay if you hate him so much?"

Kuwabara shrugged. "He pays something unreal." He shrugged and patted him on the shoulder before heading to the door. "I'm gonna go arrange everything. Stay here. I'll know if you leave."

Kurama nodded and waited until the door had shut behind Kuwabara before flopping back on his bed with a sigh. He bit his lip indecisively as he stared at the door for a minute, then, convinced he wouldn't be interrupted, flipped over onto his stomach to fish under his mattress for the cell phone he had stashed there. The hiding place was childish, but he had reasoned that for exactly that reason Kuwabara would never look there when he had confiscated all of his forms of communiqué. He had disposed of his primary cell phone in Japan, but he had always kept a prepaid phone on hand after his father had thrown a fit some years ago and broken his first cell phone. Glancing once more at the door to be sure he would go undisturbed, he started to key in a phone number, but paused. If he was caught on the phone, Kuwabara would probably just take the phone away, but if he looked at the call number, _then_ Kurama would be in trouble. Deciding calling was not a good idea, he deleted the numbers from the screen and instead began to enter a text message. Sending it with a speed formed from repetitive use, he once again turned off the phone and stashed it away before rolling back to stare at the ceiling. He hoped it was enough to pacify any built up anger his silence had caused.

"Hiei, you can't be _serious_," Yukina gasped. Hiei's eyes hardened again and he turned his attentions back out t the street.

"I told said you wouldn't like it," he accused her. The small girl bit her lip and silently berated herself for reacting so callously. Hiei was _happy_ with Kurama, a thought that made her mind stumble a bit, she would admit, but she was unsure of whether that was because it really _was_ a man who was doing this to her brother or if it was because it was _Kurama_. The implications were…

"Hiei, he's _Yomi's_ son," she exclaimed quietly, not wanting to risk Yusuke hearing if he was listening at the door, which she was sure he was. "Do you understand what that _means_? Mother…"

"I understand better than you think I do," he hissed, turning back to her. The cold expression he usually reserved for their mother or Yusuke when he was being obnoxious firmly in place. Yukina felt sorry for him, berating herself again. It was hard to swallow, that was true, but Hiei wanted so much for her to just accept it. She could see that in the way he closed up immediately after she had admonished him. Reigning in her feelings she tried to see it from his stand point. He was in love and without support in that love. Open opposition to it, in fact. And now he had lost contact with his lover and had no one to turn to.

_Better than you think I do…_ she wondered. Their mother and Senator Yomi were both very unsavory people behind closed doors. In front of the cameras, it would be impossible for them to be sweeter: family oriented, loving parents who wanted to make the nation better for all the citizens. Behind doors they were cold and uncaring unless it came between them and a shot at presidency. Yukina and her brother had met Senator Yomi and his son, Kurama, once at a formal dinner their mother had thrown for all the local chair people. It was a publicity stunt that benefited all of them without a single camera in view. That was when she realized none of the government officials had a single caring bone in their bodies.

Yomi had completely ignored his son, who had been nothing but charming the entire time. She remembered, now, that Hiei had offered to keep the other boy company about half way through the dinner. She recalled thinking happily that Hiei was beginning to be more social, though it was odd for him to be so open about it. Now that she though about it, though, Kurama was the one who had excused them. And Yomi had become upset when, a few hours later, he had realized his son was missing. The knowledge that he was with Hiei had not assuaged him at all.

"Hiei," she asked. "How long has this been going on?"

"A while," he replied vaguely.

"Since that dinner last year?"

"No," Hiei shook his head, looking out the window again, flooding through memories. "No. We began to become friends then, but it never became more than that until a few months ago."

Something was bothering Yukina, but the second she tried to pin it down in her mind it would flit off to a different recess. She was still trying to catch the illusive thought when Hiei's cell phone rang. She hadn't realized it was lying in his lap until he snapped it up in his hand, stopping short of placing it to his ear. He stared at the illuminated screen, his face trying to remain straight even as relief and consternation warred for dominance. Yukina stepped up behind him and peered over his shoulder. She couldn't help but smile a little at the message before Hiei flicked the phone closed, hiding the note from her eyes. She had read it all, though.

_h im fine_

_luv u_

_sry_

She was not going to pretend she understood what 'sry' meant, or why he had opened with 'I'm fine'. Or even why the writing had been so terribly clipped. But she really had no need to know. All she needed was in that second line of chat speak.

I love you.

"Aren't you going to reply?" she asked softly when he made no move to respond to the message.

Hiei frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head in the negative. It was not so much that he did not _want_ to reply – because he truly did want to – as it was that he felt it unwise. There were many reasons for this, not the least of which being that Kurama, as Hiei knew very well, loathed chat speak. He had told Hiei in no uncertain terms that he felt it not only made people sound unintelligent, it was usually a sign that they were.

_Not that there's any great intellect being lost in the youth of this nation_, Kurama had continued after with a grin.

Hiei completely understood. The occasions on which he had felt infinitely wiser than his age group were anything but few, and besides his sister and Kurama, he doubted there was much intellect left in his peers. This being the case, it was a warning bell to Hiei that Kurama would use chat speak. It told him that the redhead had been in a hurry, and Kurama was not one to rush anything. He had also abbreviated Hiei's name. While there had been a few occurrences where the redhead had slipped into the clipped teenage lingo due to time constraints, he had only ever abbreviated Hiei's name once, and that was after…no, Kurama did not spare politeness unless he was deeply out of sorts.

All of this led him to assume that Kurama was disallowed from using the phone – a theory his lack of contact had supported so far – and he had somehow found a chance to sneak a call. If this was the case, which he was rapidly becoming sure was so, then he did not want to chance getting Kurama caught by messaging him, though he doubted Kurama would be thoughtless enough to forget to turn off his phone again.

But…

What if Kurama were waiting for him to message back? Or, even if he were not exactly waiting, he would at least expect some form of answer. He had absolutely no desire to sadden the redhead by making him think Hiei did not care about him. He did, and was curious as to what Kurama had to be sorry for, for that is what he was sure the third line meant. If it was an apology for not contacting him, then there was no need. Hiei's mother was a bitch and Kurama's father was no better, he knew that better than any besides Kurama himself. If it were for something else, he was clueless as to what and the lack of knowledge drove him insane.

And now he was second guessing himself as well as driving himself to fretting. He despised second guessing. He shook such thoughts from his head, frowning angrily at himself for acting like such a girl and turned to his sister, who was watching him patiently.

"Bring me your phone," he told her. When she gave him a questioning look he glared at her, though his normal heat was far from it. "Just do it."

Yukina shrugged a little and left the room to find her cell phone. If Hiei wanted to use her phone for goodness only knew what reason, she could care less. As long as he was doing so for reasons other than paranoia.

Kurama itched to retrieve his phone to see if Hiei had replied, but restrained himself with an anchoring sigh and closed his eyes. He really was being pathetic, he knew that. He had to wait until Shiori was in charge of his odd little house arrest before he could take the phone out again. Kuwabara could come in at any moment, and if he happened to enter while Kurama was holding a phone, all deals would be off for Shiori taking over. Mentally he cursed. Why were they taking so long, anyways? A glance at the clock told him that not even five minutes had elapsed and he rolled his head to look at the ceiling again with a restless sigh.

Maybe he could take a look before Kuwabara got back.

He growled at himself and rolled off the bed, heading for his wardrobe as he berated himself for acting like a love-struck girl. True he may _look_ a little like one, but he was anything but a woman. But perhaps his looks had been what saved him in Japan. Inari only knew he would have never made it if he had not run across Heero in that bar. Then again, Heero had expressed no surprise at his being a man the next morning. In fact, he acted as if he had already known Kurama was male.

The redhead paused, a pair of jeans clutched in one hand as he frowned. How was Heero, anyways? The youth had seemed the same age as Kurama, yet he had his own house and worked in an office. A wave of guilt tickled him as he thought about how he had uprooted the poor man after only knowing him a few days and then abandoning him in America. Oh, he was sure Heero had managed passably, he spoke the language fluently after all, but that had nothing to do with him being torn from his life to try and fins another in an entirely different environment. However, there was no was he could have left Heero in Japan. When Hiei had called him that night, not long after Kuwabara had, he told him his father knew where he was staying; that he had to run, and fast. Kurama held no delusions of his father only taking him away back home: if he knew where he was staying it meant he knew whom with, as well. His father detested homosexuality, and at the first hint that Kurama had a male lover he would have had the other man murdered. Heero had not been anywhere near a lover to Kurama, but his father was also known for ignoring the facts when it suited him.

And this brought Kurama to another troubling thought as he dragged on a button down t-shirt and began tucking it into his new jeans. He had his suspicions that his father knew more than he wanted him to. Right before he had run away his father had begun monitoring him wherever he went. This worried Kurama. He hoped he was wrong, but it looked as if Senator Yomi knew his son _had_ a gay lover, he just did not know _who_. He felt horrible that Heero was his unwitting scapegoat for his true affair with none other than Hiei, the son of Yomi's most hated rival, but at the same time he was glad his father was diverting his attentions towards the young Japanese and not still fishing for who Kurama's lover might be. He just prayed his father had not made life _too_ difficult for the young man. Of course, knowing is father…

Senator Yomi was in anything but a good mood. He glared impatiently at his assistant's back as he moved about. The sound of papers shuffling was the only noise in the office. He sat like that for some time, waiting for the oaf to present something. Anything. He was beginning to wear on patience. If the idiot was only buying time, he swore he would have the man garroted. He rubbed his temples in agitation; it had been…he thought for a second…almost twenty minutes. This was ridiculous. He planted his hands firmly on his desk once more as the sound of busy work died down and shot a warning look at his assistant.

"Well?"

Erm… . I know next to nothing about Mukuro and Yomi. Hell, I don't even know what Yomi LOOKS like. Sad, but true. Anyways, I…forgot that Yomi was blind when I wrote this. I tried to go back and fix it a little after I remembered, but he still isn't blind. You will probably have noticed that physical appearance has altered a bit for these two characters, as well. Mukuro, because I'm not going to have a half metal human waltzing about the American government, and Yomi because I have no idea what he looks like, but even if I did, I doubt he looks very human. So, yes. Differences. Indiscrepancies. Call them what you will. And Yomi's not blind.


End file.
